


Desperate Measures

by lost_spook



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Red Dwarf
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Serial: 078 Genesis of the Daleks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davros is taking extreme action to ensure the survival of his race; Dave Lister is on an equally desperate quest for a decent curry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dbskyler in an LJ crossover meme.
> 
> [NB. I know that Davros doesn’t believe in the existence of aliens, but I assume that whatever happened aboard Red Dwarf, he’s probably in denial.]

The austere atmosphere of the Kaled bunker was broken briefly by a flash of light that deposited an unfamiliar humanoid next to the desk in Davros’s laboratory.

Davros and Nyder both turned their heads.

“Hi,” said the stranger, dressed in scruffy, black clothes that were unheard of on Skaro. He gave a forced smile and a small wave. “I can see you’re busy, but you don’t happen to have any curry stashed away down here, do you?”

Davros raised his remaining hand towards the controls on his life support and travel machine. “Nyder. Deal with the intruder.”

“Ow! Look, I only asked. Chicken vindaloo?”

“How did you get here?”

“That’s a bit complicated. Look, I can tell this isn’t a good time so I’ll pop off back to my ship and leave you gentlemen in peace with your -. Urgh. What’s that when it’s at home? S’disgusting. Looks like fried calamari.”

Davros eyed the creature in a tank on the desk. “That is the future of my race.”

“Smeg. No kidding? Mind, I can see you’re halfway there, but this guy looks pretty normal to me-. _Aargh_. Okay, so looks can be deceiving, but -. Let go, all right! I’m going -.”

Davros tapped at the chair. “Interesting. You appear through solid walls and are not native to this planet and yet you seem singularly lacking in the intelligence necessary for such travel. Presumably a superior being is using you as a test subject?”

“Hey, I resent that. It’s not my fault they sent me to art college – never got a chance for a proper education. Anyway, how d’you mean, that thing is the future of your race?”

“My researches have predicted that this is the form our race will eventually evolve into.”

The stranger leant forward to examine it, while Nyder watched through narrowed eyes. “It’s horrible. And how d’you know that? I mean, unless you went and took some of your people and -.” He stopped and looked from one to the other. “Smeg. You’re one sick bastard, aren’t you?”

“It was necessary for our survival.”

He looked at the wriggling green creature again. “You call that survival? Don’t think I would. What about you?”

Nyder hit him sharply with his short stick by way of reply. “You dare to insult Davros!”

“Ow,” he said again, lying on the floor. “You two’d make Adolf Hitler and Heinrich Himmler look like a pair of pussycats.”

“If you have nothing of value to say, be silent. If you wish to tell me who sent you here, I may choose to be more lenient.”

“Call me stupid,” said the man, and then reflected. “Okay, so you already did, but still. If you’ve got the technology to work out this sort of thing with genetics and what have you, couldn’t you have made sure your race evolved into something – I don’t know – less blobby and maybe with legs and arms instead of tentacles? 'Cos if it were me, I’d rather my race didn’t end up like something you really _don’t_ wanna find lurking in the loos.”

Nyder glared down at him. “Shall I dispose of this imbecile, Davros? This must be some ploy of the Thals or your enemies in the Kaled Dome.”

“No,” he said. “He interests me. I wish to know how he arrived here. Clearly whatever technology brought him to us is beyond his meagre capabilities but he may have some rudimentary knowledge of its workings.” He looked down at the alien. “You will sit here and explain.”

He picked himself up. “No, thanks. I don’t want to end up like that guy there. I’m outta here!”

“You will co-operate or you will be eliminated.”

He spoke to his wrist, which Davros found intriguing. “Holly, did you hear me? Now would be a very good time to get me out of here! Holly, are you listening? Kryten -?”

Nyder drew a weapon. The stranger fell silent. Somehow, no matter what they looked like, the language of guns was common across the galaxies.

“If you put it like that -.”

Nyder snatched the watch from him and handed it to Davros.

“It must be a communication device. Fascinating.”

“Hey, give that back! It’s mine.”

“I wish to examine it. You may have it once I have finished if you agree to my terms.”

There was another flash of light and a sudden, ominous silence in the room. Eventually, thin-lipped, Nyder turned to the invader. “Where is Davros?”

“Okay, he’s on board my ship – Red Dwarf. Probably. Knowing Holly, he might have been the one to get sent to the Taj Mahal Curry House. Lucky bastard.”

“Explain yourself or I kill you now!”

He took a deep breath, “It’s difficult, but put it like this: kill me and you’ll never get your twisted scientific genius back. So, I suggest you listen to me, this time – we can sort everything out.”

“Probably?” returned Nyder, raising an eyebrow.

The other grinned.

***


End file.
